Swirls of Destruction
by TheYmp
Summary: E/O Challenge: Swirl. 100 & 500 word swirling drabbles that surely aren't going to end well. #1: Dean isn't himself. #2: Really, does Dean have to do everything around here? Warnings? Seriously, none of this is ever gonna happen in season 9!


**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters - these were created by Eric Kripke - I'm just borrowing them. I'm not making any commercial gain. No harm or infringement intended.**

**E/O Challenge: Swirl. 100 & 500 word swirling drabbles that surely aren't going to end well. #1: Dean isn't himself. #2: Really, does Dean have to do everything around here? Warnings? Seriously, none of this is ever gonna happen in season 9!**

~#~

**Swirls of Destruction**

**_"The waves of death swirled about me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me" - 2 Samuel 22:5_**

~#~

**A/N: ****_Dean isn't himself._**

**Dancing Dean**

Dean turned his nose up at the bar Sam suggested.

"I hear there's a club downtown that's just _to die for_," he enthused.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but followed his brother.

"Yay! I _love_ this song!" Dean laughed, dragging Sam onto the dance floor.

Sam shuffled awkwardly while Dean swirled and turned with wild abandon.

"Here, drink this, it's _so_ yummy," Dean giggled, as he thrust some sickly, umbrellaed monstrosity at Sam.

"What'd you do with my brother?"

'Dean' pouted. "But aren't I _more_ fun?"

"Actually, you're giving me a headache."

"Ooh... you _bitch_,"

"I'm not gonna ask again, _jerk_."

~#~

**A/N: ****_Really, does Dean have to do everything around here?_**** Sorry, but this is pretty much the weird ****_Friends_****-like insanity you'd get if it was me writing season 9!**

**The One Where Dean is Monica**

**_"It's not that your friend is bad, it's ... it's that she's so bad, she makes me want to put my finger through my eye, into my brain, and swirl it around!" – Friends 2x06_**

Dean was bone tired, hungry, and coated from head to toe in a rapidly hardening layer of blood, mud, and entrails. On the plus side, this sort of thing had always proved to be surprisingly good for the skin. _Because I'm worth it_, he smirked, only to grimace as he pulled a long strand of _sheesh-I-don't-want-to-even-think-about-what-that- is_ from his hair.

As he clomped his way down into the Bat Cave all he could think of was his need for a long hot shower. Maybe he'd been dreaming, maybe he was already dead, but that water pressure must surely be a sign that he'd died and gone back to Heaven.

His dreams of a soapy paradise ground to a halt as he gazed down at the sight of Sam huddled up into a ball, yet somehow still managing to be sprawled across the entirety of the couch.

"Have you even actually moved while I've been out?" Dean asked in mock outrage. He pushed aside an impressively tall pile of empty soda cans and take-out cartons to make some space on the seat opposite. _How come I'm the only one picking up the slack around here?_

"Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you left me with "_Romcom Tom_" over there," Sam snarled, flipping Dean the bird, before gesturing at Crowley who was sitting, wrapped in a blanket and sobbing, in a nearby armchair. "He's been mainlining on _Love Actually_ back-to-back re-runs while you've been gone."

"Everyone deserves to be loved," whined the former King of Hell, turning his attention away from the film for a brief moment, as he wiped his streaming eyes and nose on his sleeve.

Any response that Dean had been planning to make was lost as Castiel chose that moment to sweep into the room dressed in an obviously new, dark brown, rain coat. The ex-angel gave a distinct smile of pleasure as the coat tails swirled out behind him. "What do you think?"

Dean shook himself and swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "_Another_ coat, Cas? _Really?_" He was beginning to think that even future-druggy!Cas was better than fashionista!Cas.

Castiel continued to primp and preen in the mirror. Finally, Dean's brain came back online and he frowned.

"Hey, I thought we agreed that you rock the _Constantine_ look, but if anyone gets to do _Eastwood_ it'd be me," Dean hissed.

Castiel looked guilty, but any reply was cut short as Abaddon stalked into the room. She stood glaring at the room and its rag-tag of occupants with undisguised disdain, putting her hands on her hips and glowering at the dust and abandoned plates liberally strewn across every available surface.

"Looks like you need a woman's touch around here."

Her eyes focused on Dean like laser guided hawks as he relaxed momentarily and nodded at her comment.

"Unlucky for you, I'm big on delegation." She thrust a dustpan into his chest, making him release his breath with an _oomph_.

"Hop to it, sweet cheeks."

(;,;)


End file.
